


Unplanned Parenthood

by tanwencooper



Series: Busy Making Other Plans [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Children, Daddy Derek, Daddy Stiles, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Parent!Sterek, Parenthood, Post Season/Series 02, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:12:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanwencooper/pseuds/tanwencooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek, though happily married, have always skirted around the topic of kids. After babysitting the pack brood they decide that maybe the time might be right to have a few of their own but tragedy brings their parenthood to them a lot sooner than they planned.</p><p>Over the next thirty years they face trials far greater than a pack full of kanimas. There is loss and love, fights and laughter but through good times and bad, they watch their children grow. Together</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4 and 7 - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based in my [Three Times a Lady 'Verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/31022). If you haven't read it/need a refresher then there's a breakdown of all the important points at the end.
> 
> The idea of this fic is that it will be mostly a series of vignettes at various points throughout their lives. I'm not sure exactly how long it will be as I keep thinking of scenes I want to add in, but I do know where it's going. There's no big through plot other than Derek and Stiles life together as parents. I feel that I should give a bit of a warning though. The fic will go something like this:  
> Oh look, how sweet and lovely and _oh my god no! why why why the feels_ wait. it's all okay again. Everyone is happy _no their not_ yes they are _not_ so fluffy _no it's not_ yes they are. It's all good and _Oh my god right in the feeeeeeeeeeeeeelings_ REPEAT.
> 
> As always constructive critisism is desired, nay, encouraged and if your that way inclined you can find me Tumblr [here](tanwencooper.tumblr.com).

            Derek slumped onto the couch and Stiles promptly collapsed face down onto him. He let out a long low groan as Derek began to slowly rub his back.

            “Why? Why did we agree to babysit all six of them?” Stiles said, the sound of his voice muffled by Derek’s leg. “And at our house? So it was a freaking sleep over? With all the freaking sleep over excitement.”

            “Because we’re idiots?” Derek offered.

            “Hey!” said Stiles. “Speak for yourself.”

            “This was your idea,” said Derek, still bristling from being told that their house would be overrun that weekend with five kids between the ages of 2 and 7 years old, whether he wanted them there or not.

            “I was being nice,” said Stiles flipped himself over so that his head was resting in his husband’s lap. “They all really wanted to go to the concert and I thought, ‘why shouldn’t they get to go?’ It’s not like they get to go out much anymore with work and the kids and life. None of us do really, not all together.”

            “If you wanted to all go out together shouldn’t we have gone too?”

            Stiles made a snort of derision.

            “I love my friends but their taste in music sucks. Imagine Dragons? They’ve not had a decent album in years! You guys have fun listening to how the mighty have fallen. I’ll stay here, thanks.”

            “With the hoard of rampaging kids?”

            “With the hoard of rampaging kids.”

            Derek’s fingers brushed Stiles’ hair idly, a movement so familiar that neither of them noticed it. Stiles closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment of peace before Princess Sara Whittemore stormed downstairs demanding juice or one of the McCall twins decided to wake the other up and begin screaming for their Mommy. Bed time had been hard work but the rest of the day had actually been a lot of fun. They’d taken the hoard out a little ways into the woods, showed them an abandoned rabbit warren and looked at bugs with a magnifying glass. When the heavens had decided to open on them they came back to the house and the kids ‘helped’ make pancakes. Stiles doubted they’d ever get all of the batter from out of the light fittings but the kids had enjoyed it. The storm was still raging outside and the sound of it through the house had scared them but somehow, by some miracle, they managed to get the five of them to sleep.

            He thought back to Derek standing in the living room with a twin on his shoulders, Stiles couldn’t remember if it was Kurt or Ivan, galloping around so that the child squealed in delight. The others all clamoured for a go after that, even Veronica who was currently going through a phase of wanting to be more mature than she actually was purely because she was the oldest of the pack’s children. The children had adored Derek and he them, as he always had. The man Stiles was married to was very different to the man Stiles had met in the woods all those years ago. His husband laughed and told jokes, his husband was glad to be alive, his husband lived to help others and loved with a passion Stiles was glad to bear the brunt of. But Stiles had never seen Derek as joyful as he had been today, surrounded by a hoard of rampaging kids using him like a climbing frame. Even when he was wrestling TJ into his Spiderman pyjamas while being hit over the head with a story book, Derek had looked… at home.

            “You were great with them,” said Stiles. “All of them.”

            The words formed on the tip of his tongue, words that both of them had danced around since their wedding, since their engagement, since even before then. Questions that Stiles knew both of them wanted to ask, that neither could bring themselves to say right now but knew that they would, in time. When they were ready. Stiles had turned thirty that year and Derek was six years his senior. True, there was no biological imperative hanging over their heads so there was no rush but Stiles doubted that he was ever going to be any more ready than he was right now.

            Derek’s eyes were beginning to close in exhaustion when Stiles let the words slip at last.

            “You’d be a really great Dad.”

            The fingers in Stiles hair stilled for a moment and Derek slowly opened his eyes, staring out blankly. He took a deep breath, returning to stroking Stiles’ hair.

            “You think so?”

            “I know so.”

            Stiles pulled himself up so that he was sitting next to Derek on the couch. He took Derek’s left hand in his, twining their fingers together so that their wedding bands sat next to each other.

            “I know you want kids Derek. I remember the day Erica told us she was going to have Veronica. You were so freaking happy. I don’t think you could have been happier if it _had_ been our kid but when I raised the question of one day _having_ our own, you shut down. Every time one of the pack announces a new baby is on the way you are even happier than the last time and we _still_ don’t talk about it. You always shut down. You’re so goddamn happy but that doesn’t mean I don’t see how sad you are too. And I get it, I do, but I need to talk about it Derek. I need to at least know. Are we ever going to have kids of our own or are we always going to be Unky Stiles and Uncle Der?”

            Derek rubbed his thumb along the white metal of their wedding rings. When he spoke there was a slight quaver in his voice.

            “I have this image in my head,” he said, “of this perfect little girl. Our little girl, with dark hair, my eyes and your nose. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.”

            He trailed off. Stiles shuffled closer on the couch.

            “Is it that we can’t have a kid… together that bothers you? Is that the problem?”

            Derek shook his head sadly and leant over to nestle in the nook of Stiles’ shoulder.

            “No, not really,” he said. “I don’t feel like I need to carry on the Hale family line or anything. The thing about pack is that _the Pack_ is your family. Your pack is your legacy. Blood relation has nothing to do with that so I’ve never felt like I need to, I don’t know, carry on the Hale family name. It might be different for you, but I just… I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid dream in my head.”

            Stiles rubbed his cheek against the softness of Derek’s hair. He was beginning to go grey at the edges, the odd hair here and there amongst all the black. Stiles made jokes about old wolves getting kicked out the pack but he had to admit he did find the distinguished look hot as hell.

            “I always thought that whole ‘passing on the family genes’ stuff was bullshit,” said Stiles. “You’re parents are the people that raise you. There are plenty of kids out there in the world that need homes. I was talking to Angela. She said when something bad happens to a pack, hunters or turf wars or whatever, there’s nearly always a kids gets left behind. They can’t just put them into foster care because they’re werewolves, what happens when they start shifting, so they have to find people who know about all this to take care of them. People like us.”

            Derek twisted his head to look up at Stiles.

            “You’ve always got to have a plan on your hands, don’t you? You’ve been really thinking about this for a while.”

            “Not really,” Stiles admitted. “She came up to me and just said it. A small prod in the right direction. I think she wants to be a great aunt or whatever.”

            Derek smiled before shaking his head and settling back down.

            “What if next time we’re the pack that something bad happens to? What if they get left alone again? If you keep losing the people you love… it’s not good. Trust me.”

            Werewolves healing may fix even the most horrendous wounds but it did nothing for scars below the surface. There were deep wounds in Derek’s mind that Stiles had learned would never heal.

            “We’re the Beacon Hills Pack, Derek. No one’s messed with us in over a decade. You forget you’ve got me watching your back, Stiles Stilinski, supernatural police agent extraordinaire.”

            “Stilinski- _Hale,_ ” Derek muttered quietly making Stiles laugh. “What if something happens to us at work though? Neither of us have particularly safe jobs.”

            “Yeah, okay. One of us might get shot, or stabbed, or sacrificed to the great God Imhotep as part of a resurrection ceremony but you know what? I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. So could you, though I think the bus might come off worse in that scenario. Bad stuff happens, there’s nothing that can stop that, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t be happy.”

            “I’m not sure I get to be-”

            “Oh my god, if you say ‘I’m not sure I get to be happy’ I will actually, literally punch you in the face right now. I don’t care if I break my hand doing it.”

            Stiles sat forward looking at the half pinched laugh behind Derek’s lips. Oh for the love of… Stiles was pretty sure that they had a rule about Derek not being allowed to tell jokes because he wasn’t funny.

            “Fine,” said Derek. “I get to be happy. I mean I am at the moment but I… I’m worried I’m going to screw up this tiny little person’s life.”

            Stiles didn’t draw attention to the fact that Derek had said _I’m going to_ rather than _I could._ He just filed it away in his brain and carried on.

            “How exactly? By loving them to death? If there is one thing you know how to do, oh husband of mine, it’s how to love. You might not be able to talk about it and it might make you behave like a dumb ass sometimes but you love like no one I have ever known. You care about me and the pack and the kids. So we might screw up a couple of times but name me one parent who hasn’t. I know mine did, I’m sure yours did to.”

            Derek looked across at him.

            “You really want to do this don’t you?”

            “Yeah. And so do you.”

            Stiles could see the beginnings of a smile begin to trace along Derek’s lips. He could feel the hypothetical situation shifting into being a lot less hypothetical. He lifted their hands to his lips, kissing their alternating knuckles.

            “So, in this picture in your head,” said Stiles, “is there just one little girl? No sister? No strapping young boy you can play catch with on the weekend?”

            Derek raised an eye brow at Stiles.

            “I can play catch with a daughter, Stiles. It’s not like it’s physically impossible to play catch if you have a vagina.”

            Stiles slapped him on the arm.

            “You know what I mean! I want to know all about this family of ours you’ve been hiding in your head.”

            Derek rolled his head and then pulled Stiles in close to him again.

            “We have three kids. You’re Daddy and I’m Papa. Oh and we have a dog. Probably a Great Dane because they don’t mind werewolves so much. Our youngest girl is called Laura. She totally takes after her namesake, a complete trouble maker and you always have to watch out for her. The middle is our son, Rafe, who is always reading twelve books at once like you and the oldest is another girl, who was going to be called TJ but we’ll have to rethink that now Erica and Boyd have stolen it.”

            Stiles looked at Derek. How could he have had this whole life planned out in his head and Stiles not know a single detail of it? He wanted to know everything about it. He wanted to know all about the birthday parties Derek had imagined, the first bike rides, the Christmases, all of it.

            “What was TJ going to stand for,” he asked.

            “Talia-Jane,” said Derek.

            Both of their mother’s names twisted together. Stiles choked back a sob.

            “And I’m the one making plans? You’ve been putting all that together without me knowing.”

            “Yeah. Guess I kinda have.” Derek turned to Stiles, lit with hope. “Let’s just do it.”

            “Seriously,” Stiles baulked. “That’s how we decide to have kids. _Let’s just do it_?”

            “You got a better plan?”

            “No. No I really do not. Okay then. Let’s just do it. Let’s… get ourselves a baby, Papa.”

            Derek kissed Stiles, holding him tightly and clinging on in affirmation. The two of them fell backwards, lying across the couch. Stiles knew that they had a long road ahead of them, that it wasn’t as simple as just ‘getting ourselves a baby’ but it was a start. Together he and the man he loved were going to have a family. They were going to raise a child, perhaps several, and all was well in the…

            It came as a blistering lance through his body, the great, sudden sense of wrongness. Stiles jerked sideways, doubled over in pain as he sprawled himself across the floor. He could feel Derek’s hand upon his back, coaxing him through whatever brand of vision was currently ripping through him.

            “Something changed,” said Stiles. “Something… Something happened. Random. Unpredictable but… oh god. It’s wrong, it’s so very, very wrong.”

            Stiles managed to stagger over to the waste bin before he threw up. Derek handed him a glass of water. It washed away the taste of bile, but there was something else left behind. A bitter taste, a physical manifestation of whatever great ill had happened in the world.

            “What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

            “I don’t know,” said Stiles, “but I think it’s something close to us. Something personal.”

            Derek’s phone trilled.

            “Answer it,” Stiles said hoarsely.

            Derek answered and Stiles could hear Isaac’s voice on the other end of the line. He was shouting, panicked and unsettled as Derek tried to calm him down enough to find out what happened. All Stiles could make out were the names _Boyd_ and _Erica_ and the same phrase repeated over and over.

            _“Dead, Derek. Oh god, I think they’re dead. They’re dead. He’s dead. Boyd’s dead.”_

            Stiles eyes were drawn towards the door to the hallway where he could see TJ standing, his stuffed toy dragging on the floor. He must have been woken by the noise of Stiles realising something terrible had happened to his parents.

            “What’s wrong Unky Stiles?” he said.

            Stiles could only hear Derek’s half of the conversation but he didn’t even need to see his face to realise that the worst had happened.

            “Nothing,” said Stiles walking towards TJ, scooping him up and hugging him close as he carried him. “Go back to bed. Everthing’s going to be okay.”

            He ventured one last glance back at Derek, slumped against a wall in shock. Derek looked up at him and Stiles knew without doubt that everything was not going to be okay. It was probably never going to be okay ever again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

            “Do not stand at my grave and weep;

            I am not there. I do not sleep.

            I am a thousand winds that blow.

            I am the diamond glints on snow.

            I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

            I am the gentle autumn rain.

 

            When you awaken in the morning's hush,

            I am the swift uplifting rush

            Of quiet birds in circled flight.

            I am the soft stars that shine at night.

            Do not stand at my grave and cry;

            I am not there, I did not die.”

 

            Isaac folded the paper he’d read the poem from and put it into his pocket, stepping backwards to join in line with the other mourners. There were a good number of mourners, all dressed in sombre tones that seemed all the more dark against the bright sunshine and grass so green that it couldn’t possibly be real. It was strange how alive the graveyard smelled. The grass had just been cut and the service was decorated with the same colour roses that Erica and Boyd had had at their wedding.

             Derek looked down to the young girl at his side. Veronica was staring ahead resolutely, stony faced as she watched her father’s coffin being lowered into the ground. Slowly the dark wood vanished from view until all that was left was the rose coffin topper, red as freshly spilled blood, and then soon even that disappeared. The tiny hand clenched in Derek’s own gripped tighter.

            Of all of them, she seemed to have been the strongest through this all. Her brother, currently hoisted up on Stiles’ hip, was still too young to understand all of this, the finality of death, but Veronica knew. She understood her father had gone away forever and she met it with a quiet strength that Derek envied.

            Boyd was never supposed to be the one to die. He’d been the strongest of them all, more so than even Derek at times but he had grown to be the most controlled too. When the full moon came around he didn’t even seem to feel it anymore. Whenever you needed him, Boyd was there. Derek had always thought Boyd would be the one to outlast them all, if he didn’t sacrifice himself nobly to save the world first.

            Vernon Boyd was not supposed to die in something as meaningless as a car crash.

            Instant death the doctors had said, like it was supposed to be a consolation. Fast or slow Boyd was still dead, cut in half by a truck that had run a red and now Derek was holding the hand of his daughter as they threw earth onto his coffin. The sound of soil hitting hollow wood resounded in Derek’s ears. There was not another sound in the universe.

            They stood there together until the priest announced the service over. Boyd’s mother had organised the service. There were times that Derek forgot that the pack had families of their own. Boyd hadn’t had much of a family outside the pack, only his mother was left alive. He’d had a sister who had died when he was small but Boyd had never said how she died and Derek never asked. The Pack had been all the family Boyd needed, before he’d had one of his own that was. It was easy to forget the frail old woman who Boyd went to visit four times a week. They knew Mrs. Boyd better now, ironically. In these last few days Derek had seen her more that he’d done in the last fifteen years as she came by to visit the kids everyday. They were staying at the Pack house. The whole Pack was at the Pack house.

            A stream of people walked past Mrs. Boyd as she sat by herself. They offered the condolences, told her to call if she needed anything, then moved on, ultimately leaving her alone.

            Around him he heard his pack talk in hushed tones but he wasn’t really aware of what was being said. The only thing that seemed real to him was the little girl who still held his hand, staring at an unfilled grave.

            “It was a lovely service,” said Allison. “I think he would have liked it.”

            It was a lovely service, as lovely as a funeral can be, but it hadn’t been a _werewolf_ funeral. But funerals were for the living, not the dead. The pack would have their own memorial later, away from prying eyes.

            “At least Erica’s mother had the decency to stay away,” said Scott.

            Erica’s mother had been making a lot of trouble of late. Apparently Derek and Stiles were untrustworthy charlatans who had brainwashed her daughter and were now keeping her children hostage. She’d been around every day that week demanding to take them away now that Erica could no longer look after them.

            Derek had never heard of the facility the Weisse Rat had taken Erica too. A mental institution for the supernaturally insane. Erica’s body had survived the crash. Her mind had not. At first they’d thought it was grief but it soon became clear that losing her husband had robbed Erica of so much more. The final straw had been when Stiles had walked in to find her standing over her children while they slept, a knife in her hand. They looked too much like their father.

            “We’re going to make sure everything’s ready for the wake,” said Isaac touching Derek on the shoulder as he left.

            Derek saw Mrs. Boyd was stood at the graveside now, staring down into cavernous hole. She held a crucifix in her hand, kissing it before tossing it into the grave.

            TJ was falling asleep on Stiles shoulder, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Stiles adjusted the boy on his hip, turning his head to press his lips to TJ’s ear in a not-quite-kiss. By Derek’s own side, Veronica let her hand slip from his and ran towards her grandmother, hugging the old woman’s legs tightly. She stooped and wrapped her own arms around the little girl’s shoulders.

            “I miss him too,” said Mrs. Boyd quietly. “We’ll always miss him but we know that he loves us still. Your daddy will always love you. Always.”

            Derek turned away, giving the two of them a moment together.

            “Hey,” he said wrapping an arm around Stiles back.

            “Hey,” said Stiles back, his voice thick with tears.

            Derek ruffled TJ’s hair, making the boy nuzzle in deeper to Stiles shoulder.

            “You alright there kiddo?” he asked but TJ just made a noise of displeasure and gripped onto Stiles’ shirt harder.

            Derek leaned against Stiles other shoulder for a moment before pressing a gentle kiss to Stiles lips. Over the last few days Derek had found himself touching Stiles every moment that he could. Shoulders pressed together while they did the dishes, an arm round his waist whenever they stood next to each other, holding hands when they sat watching the kids playing. Life could be short and brutal, the accident had reminded him of that. If he didn’t know how long he had left on this Earth he wanted to make sure as much of it was spent with Stiles as was humanly possible. Stiles seemed to agree.

            Veronica pulled on Derek’s sleeve.

            “I need TJ’s shoe,” she said.

            “Why do you need his shoe?” Derek asked, stooping down to the same level.

            “So that Daddy can always have something of ours with him while he’s asleep in the ground. I’m going to give him my bracelet.”

            She held it up for Derek to see, in case he didn’t already know what she meant. It was just a cheap little thing made from plastic beads on a length of elastic but it was Veronica’s pride and joy. She never went anywhere without it. Now she was giving it to her dead father. Derek had to struggle to get the words out.

            “That’s a lovely idea. Are you sure you want to give him your bracelet? You won’t ever be able to get it back.”

            “You said I wouldn’t ever be able to get my Daddy back,” she said quietly. “I’d rather have my Daddy than a bracelet.”

            Derek scooped her into a hug that was more for him than for her. It was just that fraction too tight but right now he needed to know that she was safe. When he’d managed to control himself enough to make words he let her go and took her hand. He turned back to Stiles who was holding TJ’s shoe already. He hadn’t tried to stop himself crying. Together they walked over to the grave and knelt down at the edge along with Mrs. Boyd. There was a thin scattering of dirt across the coffin but it was still clearly visible. Hidden from the sunshine, the roses at lost their violent colour. They now looked black.

            “Bye bye Daddy,” said Veronica. She was crying now. “I miss you.”

            She dropped the bracelet in before turning to hug her grandma. Stiles managed to coax TJ awake enough so that he could drop the shoe in himself. He probably wouldn’t remember this but Derek felt that it was important.

            “Now you’ll always have a little bit of you with him so he’ll never be alone again,” said Mrs. Boyd.

            “I’m hungry,” said TJ now that he was awake again.

            “Can you take the kids back home to the wake,” said Derek, looking up at Stiles as he stood. “I’ll meet you there.”

            Stiles frowned at him before Derek jerked his head to the old woman sat at the grave beside him. Stiles nodded knowingly. He manoeuvred TJ around to get a hand free and held it out towards Veronica.

            “Come on little lady,” he said. “I hear there might be pie.”

            “Pie,” said TJ perking up. “I like pie.”

            “I know you do. That’s because you are your father’s son.”

            Derek watched as they walked away, talking about Boyd’s obsession with pie until their voices faded away into silence. Pretty much everyone else had drifted off by this point. All that was left was Derek and Boyd’s mother knelt by a grave. They sat like that, in silence, for a long time before she let out a long low sigh.

            “A mother isn’t supposed to bury her child,” she said. Her calm was more disturbing than if she’d been a weeping wreck. “It goes against the natural order of things. It’s not right.”

            “No. It’s not,” he said.

            “A woman should not have to put both her babies in the ground.”

            They sat quietly for a moment before she spoke again.

            “Help an old woman to her feet, would you dear?”

            Derek stood before stooping to help her up off of the floor.

            “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you boys.”

            ‘You boys’ was referring to himself, Stiles and Isaac. They’d been taking it in turns to go by her house, make sure she was doing alright and helping her with all the things Boyd used to help her with. Boyd was Pack. That meant he was family. Mrs. Boyd was family too now.

            “It’s nothing,” said Derek.

            “No. It’s not. It’s something. It might be a something you think nothing of but that doesn’t make it any less of a something,” she said. “And to think, when he first started tailing around after you and the rest of them I thought he’d gotten himself into a gang or something.”

            “A lot of people think stuff like that,” said Derek fondly. How strange their pack must seem from the outside.

            “Whatever you guys were, I’m glad he had it. He was always so… lonely before you came along. Kept shutting himself off from the world. I don’t think he ever would have had a family if it hadn’t been for you guys. How are the kids? Really?”

            Derek looked out to the car park. With his superior sight he could make out Stiles trying to juggle two kids into the back of the car. TJ seemed to be pitching some kind of fit. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

            “They’re not okay but they will be,” he said. “TJ doesn’t really understand what’s going on, keeps asking for his Mom and Dad no matter how many times we try to talk to him. He’s been tantruming like the best of them. Veronica has a better idea. She’s quiet which, well you know Veronica.”     

            “A drama queen if ever there was one,” she said fondly.

            “Yeah. She cries sometimes, we hug it out. They’re both getting through it. They just need time. Sometimes I think they’re handling this better than we are.”

            “Good. I’m glad they’re with you rather than the _Reyes_ woman.”

            “She was around the house this morning,” said Derek, referring to Erica’s mother. “She threatened to get a court order to take the kids this time but don’t worry. I know Erica wouldn’t have wanted them to live with her. We’re seeing the lawyer on Monday about custody.”

            “Good,” said Mrs. Boyd. “I wish I could take them but…”

            Her hand unconsciously fell on her hip where arthritis constantly plagued her. There was no way she could look after kids full time by herself and she knew it.

            “How are you?” asked Derek. “Really?”

            The old woman drew herself up and looked at her son’s grave.

            “Surviving,” she said.

            She took up her walking stick and began to long hobble back to her car.

            Derek watched her go before standing and walking back over to the grave side. He dug around in his pockets for a moment but the only thing he had were his keys. A glow in the dark moon key chain hung from them, a joke present that Stiles had brought back from one of his ‘business trips’. Derek pulled the ball off and dropped it into the grave.

            “Good bye Boyd,” he said. “I’ll look after them for you. All of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got distracted writing another Sterek fic called [ Poker Face](http://archiveofourown.org/works/892431) (which was about 100 times longer than I was expecting it to be), then THESIS MADNESS struck (I'm hoping to submit this week, so yeah, busy). Then when I came back to this I just had total writer's fail. It's not as good as I'd like it to be, so I'm sorry for that. Next chapter will be up sooner than this one was. I promise.
> 
> A little of this is chapter was what I would have liked to have seen after Currents.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the information relevant to this fic:  
> -Stiles is part of a secret council of supernatural police called the Weisse Rat, refereed to as either the Council or the Order. He can see the future (though there are rules to this) as well as a few other things. His maternal aunt, Angela Weiss, is badass, drinks a lot, swears and likes the ladies. Mostly. She is also on the Council.  
> -Stiles and Derek are married. They live in the rebuilt Hale house.  
> -Derek is now a cop with Beacon Hills PD.  
> -Lydia and Jackson are divorced and have a daughter named Sara.  
> -Scott and Allison are married and have twins called Ivan and Kurt.  
> -Erica and Boyd are married and have a daughter named Veronica and a son named TJ.  
> -Isaac has a werewolf boyfriend named Amir and used to date Danny.


End file.
